


Who Are We (To Be Emotional?)

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: But No Wedding Happens, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Involves a Giant Lizard and Zero Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Slow Burn, Wanda and Steve Are Besties, Wedding Vows Are Recited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m so sorry, Steve!” She says, taking his- small, tiny, frail, <em>weak</em>- hands into her own and crowds his blurred vision, her red hair taking up most of his sight, “You were too close to the lizard and I cast the spell too soon and-”</p><p>It all makes sense now, he thinks, drowning her out with his thoughts. The spell she used was supposed shrink the lizard, and with his under timed run and her over timed spell she shrank both him and- hopefully- the lizard. Now he’s back to his sickly, small form and the lizard should be back to it’s original form as well. Not really a Win-Win for him.</p><p>(Or: The One Where A Giant Lizard Helps Two Idiots With Communication Issues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Are We (To Be Emotional?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchbarnes (AzraelPhoenix)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=witchbarnes+%28AzraelPhoenix%29), [awesomecherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecherry/gifts).



> Very late Christmas present for: [Gina](http://stevebuck.tk/), [Cherry](http://captainbisexualcherry.tumblr.com/), and Kat!
> 
> Thank you to [Lore](http://nbvengers.tumblr.com/) for helping me out with some finicky bits ^^
> 
> Title from [This Love (Will Be Your Downfall) by Ellie Goulding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Voctl_nw7cM)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> (Un-Beat'd)

It’s just supposed to be a simple mission- eliminate a giant lizard trying to take over New York City, get back to the tower before Jimmy Fallon goes on because it’s Friday and Fridays include Thank You Notes that neither Steve nor Sam want to miss. So, really, this mission is supposed to be a simple Get In Get Out kind of deal, but of course when is it ever?

* * *

* * *

The plan is to shrink the lizard before it can do any more damage to the city, shrink the lizard and take it back to the Tower for testing so they can figure out who decided to make a one inch lizard the size of a three story building. Distracting the lizard from the sky are Tony, Sam, and Vision, ringing in the lizard like sheep dogs are Clint, Natasha, and Bucky- no- _James_ , and the person shrinking the lizard is Wanda with Steve as her protection. (Bruce sat this one out to set up a containment and research center in the Tower for the lizard. Thor had some diplomatic duties to attend in Asgard and was forced to miss out on the lizard wrangling.)

He and Wanda both run through city debris, Steve occasionally pulling Wanda under his shield before she gets hit with flying building chunks, and Wanda occasionally using her powers to do the same for Steve. They’re a good team, Steve thinks as they make their way to where they can hear gunshots and a screeching lizard, she has magic and he has his strength so it’s an odd sort of balance he’s not used to fighting with but one he knows he’ll get used to.

Steve skids to a stop when they make it to the end of the street. In front of them the giant lizard’s trying to knock Clint off a building with his tongue and everyone else currently not about to be eaten by a lizard is attacking it with their weapon of choice. Of course, because nothing’s simple in Steve’s life, the lizard seems to have an immunity to weapons of the human and artificial intelligence kind. 

“I’m going to bring it to you,” Steve says, looking down at Wanda, adjusting the grip on his shield, “you gotta’ be ready for it to charge at you so hit it whenever you have the chance, got it?”

Wanda nods, her hands and eyes are glowing a faint red and some sort of magical wind is making her hair rise and float, “I can do this, Captain,” she says, more to herself than to Steve.

Steve nods to her and presses a finger to the com in his ear, “I’m bringing the lizard to Wanda, try not to shoot me.”

He gets a few snorts over the coms and a _No promises_ from Clint. Nothing, of course from James.

Steve throws Wanda sloppy salute and runs, head first, to the lizard. 

The lizard’s huge and green and has a tongue that’s probably a mile long and up until today Steve thought he’d seen it all. A red faced skull man back in the forties, aliens falling from the sky a couple years ago, and his best friend coming back from the dead should have been him Seeing It All, but this lizard possibly takes the cake. The lizard’s eyes lock on him as he runs full speed toward it, and it makes a screeching sound before powering at him on clumsy legs. 

“You ready, Wanda?” Steve yells into the com over the lizard’s screeching, half his mind’s worried about being eaten by the lizard and the other just wants to be done with this mission.

She doesn’t reply with words but Steve can see in the surrounding building’s reflection wisps of glowing-red from her magic, with her magic in mind he quickly shifts his momentum and runs towards her instead of the lizard. He can see her chanting something softly, her eyes hard and focused on the lizard, her hands moving in the air as the red spreads, and her hair whipping from the force of the magic. Behind him he can hear the lizard screeching, the sounds of it’s feet hitting the cement as it chases him. 

“Now, Wanda!” He yells into his com when he’s got a good amount of distance from her. He means to jump out of the way, he does, he’s ready to, but his call was too soon and Wanda was too eager to complete this mission with her powers being the main player. There’s not enough time between Wanda casting her magic and himself jumping out of the way, everything’s a few seconds out of order like messed up choreography, tripping over steps and wreaking havoc when one person tries to make amends. It’s too messy, and the last thing he hears before everything goes black is Wanda screaming his name.

* * *

* * *

When Steve comes to he’s surrounded by almost everyone. Natasha’s sitting at the end of his bed with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face, Wanda’s taken the chair to his right while Sam is sitting in the one on his left, Clint’s behind Natasha on the other side of the bed, and he can hear Bruce on Tony talking from somewhere in the room. He doesn’t know where James is, but it wouldn’t surprise him if he’s gone off to do something better with his time. 

For a minute Steve keeps his eyes open and tries to figure out why his head’s spinning. Nobody notices Steve’s awakening, either staring at their phones or off into space, so he closes his eyes again and basks in the almost silence before all hell breaks lose and they tell him why everyone’s silently not-watching over him like he could die any second.

Something tells him that it has to do with the giant lizard and his misstep in the dance that was shrinking the lizard, but he ignores that something for breathing in deeply. For some reason he can’t take in as much air as he used to. His lungs struggle after a second or two of breathing in, they shake and rattle and make him forget to swallow the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth due to his forced concentration on his lungs, which triggers him to start choking. 

Everyone that’s around him jumps into action once he starts choking. Sam makes him sit up and rubs his back, Natasha places a hand on his chest and directs his breathing, somehow Wanda conjures up a cup of water- ready for when Steve needs it, and Clint’s holding up a red inhaler. Steve ignores the cup and inhaler for following Natasha’s calm voice and leaning back into Sam’s hand. He ignores the pain in his chest that comes both from the coughing and from the fact that Bucky- _James_ \- should be the one comforting like this, not Sam and Natasha. Steve closes his eyes and lets the coughing run it’s course, his head’s pounding and little white spots are appearing behind his eyelids from the coughing. It’s not fun, but it’s familiar and he hasn’t coughed in so long that it feels he’s finally getting something back from the past that he hasn’t had before. 

Soon enough the coughing stops and he takes the inhaler from Clint, it’s not until he’s taken the three puffs of inhaler that he notices he size of his hand. It’s thin and skinny, his knuckles protrude as the thinness of his skin wraps around the bone, and where his hands were once strong and calloused they’re long and smooth. 

“What the fuck?” Steve says, there’s nothing better _to_ say in this moment. 

“Language!” Tony yells from the other side of the room, people shush him, and Steve ignores it.

He looks down at his body. At the shirt the sweats that he seems to be swimming in, at the way he doesn’t have a broad chest any more but one that is narrow and tiny under the shirt. At the chest that he knows isn’t going to be bulging with muscle but with thin, skin hanging on bones, clavicle and ribs poking out. At the chest that once held a set of healthy lungs and a steady heart but probably doesn’t anymore. He’s been wanting the past back, the past between him and _James_ , but not this past. Never this past.

Steve looks up at the people around him, only just realizing that they’re slightly blurry so his eyesight must have gone to shit, too. He opens his mouth to ask what exactly happened to him when Wanda cuts him off.

“I’m so sorry, Steve!” She says, taking his- small, tiny, frail, _weak_ \- hands into her own and crowds his blurred vision, her red hair taking up most of his sight, “You were too close to the lizard and I cast the spell too soon and-”

It all makes sense now, he thinks, drowning her out with his thoughts. The spell she used was supposed shrink the lizard, and with his under timed run and her over timed spell she shrank both him and- hopefully- the lizard. Now he’s back to his sickly, small form and the lizard should be back to it’s original form as well. Not really a Win-Win for him.

He snaps himself out of his thoughts and sighs, removing one hand from where Wanda’s squeezing them and places a cold one atop hers, “It’s fine, Wanda, and the lizard?”

“Nice and shrunk,” Clint says, he gets up and stretches, groaning, “it’s my turn to watch the thing now, gotta’ relieve Vision.”

It’s when Clint gets up from the bed that Steve sees him.

In the corner of whatever medical room they’re occupying James sits. His hands are laced in front of his face, elbows on the chair’s arms. His hair, instead of being in an updo is down, making a curtain around his face with only his eyes and nose peeking out. It’s a very menacing stance, one that makes Steve think of times when James was the Asset and spoke only in thick Russian. He knows, with one part of his brain, that he should be scared of James. He should be cowering away into the sheets of the hospital bed and go back to everyone else around him. But he’s not afraid, and he never will be. Not of James, at least. He knows that what James did, what James was _forced_ to do, was all HYDRA. Every kill, every fight, all his knowledge about fighting and killing is from HYDRA- only a fraction of it coming from their time in the Army. 

He’s not afraid, no, but he is confused. 

James made it very clear a few months ago that he wanted nothing to do with Steve. He made it very clear by packing up all his belongings from their shared floor of the tower, one day when Steve was away on mission, and moving in with Natasha. No note left on the counter, no words for Steve when Steve approached him. Only a cold shoulder and colder eyes. Steve thought they were doing good before he came back to an empty apartment. He gave James the space he needed, he didn’t coddle him, and he respected the fact that he didn’t want to be called Bucky. He made sure there was food left for him when he went out on missions, and always made sure he was included at the expense of his own time with his other friends. But, apparently, that wasn’t anything James wanted from Steve. 

So for the past few month’s Steve’s been living alone. He’s been trying to cope by overworking himself to sleep better at night, by leaving the Tower as frequently as possible in order to give James the space he needs, by making sure his schedule doesn’t overlap with James’. Sure, since his little bubble of happiness was busted by James he got closer to Sam and Natasha, he even spent some time with Wanda since he knows how it feels to lose a half of one’s self. But none of that would make up for the friendship- _relationship_ \- he lost and would never get back.

And it’s okay, really, he knows people change and want different things over time. He knows not everyone has the same dreams as they used to. He knows. He just needs to figure out a way to change those things in himself.

So, seeing James here, in his room, watching over him like he’s some prized jewel is really giving him whiplash.

Steve averts his eyes from James’ own when they line up with his and looks at Wanda, “So, is this permanent?”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times before Bruce steps in, “Tony nor I are doctors that deal with magical sorts of things,” he starts, looking sheepish, “but we do know a few things about medicine, and your serum, me especially.” He walks over to where Clint once was, blocking James out of Steve’s view, and hands Steve a tablet, “See, we ran some blood samples, and the serum in your blood seems to be able to burn off magic.”

“But,” Tony pops in, moving away from the monitor he was staring at to lean against the wall in front of Steve, “it’s gonna’ take some time.”

Steve hands the tablet back to Bruce, “How much time are we talking?”

Tony and Bruce exchange glance, both of them wincing while everyone one in the room listens for the verdict, “About a month.”

Steve feels his jaw drop. Wanda starts up with her apologizing again, Natasha and Sam both yell sending rapid fire questions to Bruce and Tony, but right now everything sounds like he’s underwater. He’s going to be this way for sometime over a month. He’s going to have to figure out how to live like this again, with asthma wrecking his lungs, anemia thinning his blood, his vision blurred over, and a most likely crooked spine. He hasn’t lived this way- fully awake, out of the ice- for years. He took his serumed body for granted, and now it’s gone. 

Steve flinches when Sam rests a hand on his shoulder, “Just breathe man, come on, breathe with me,” 

He can hear his heart monitor going off beside him and closes his eyes. He follows Sam’s deep breathing until his heart, along with the monitor, slow to a normal pace. Steve licks his lips and opens his eyes again, ignoring the sympathetic looks he’s getting, he breathes in and out. 

“We have the best tech here, Cap,” Tony says, breaking the silence, trying to make Steve feel better, “we can help- if not cure- all the shit wrong with you.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees quietly, “this ain’t the forties, we got your back, man.”

Steve wants to scream. He wants to tell them that that’s not the point. He wants to give in to his insecurities and cry for all the hell he’s going to be going through for the next month. But he can’t do that, he can’t make Wanda feel bad for something that’s not her fault, and he can’t snap at his team for trying to be helpful. So, in place of screaming and crying and throwing a fit, he sighs and brings a hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes.

“Can I go back to my floor?” He doesn’t really want to be around anyone right now. He’d feel much better if he was alone, if he could take in his new body all by himself.

“I don’t think that’s a good-”

“I’m going back to my floor,” Steve says instead, if he didn’t let anyone control his life back then, he’s not about to start now. Steve, ignoring everyone’s protests, pulls out the IV and little patches they’re using to monitor his heart. He swings his legs over the side of the bed where Clint was sitting and pushes himself up. His head swims for a moment- he forgot getting up quickly made him woozy- and makes his way to the door. 

“Someone should at least watch over you for tonight,” Bruce says, not unkindly.

Steve rests a hand on the door frame, “I’d like to be alone, Jarvis will tell you if something’s wrong,” he raises his voice slightly, “won’t you Jarvis?”

“Certainly, Captain,” Jarvis replies.

Steve looks back to the team, most of them surprised at his attitude except for Natasha and probably James if he spared him a glance, “Now someone’s watching over me.”

He pushes on the sliding door and waits for it to slide open before leaving. He ignores the sounds of the team all talking over each other for trying not to trip. He’s still slightly woozy and sore but his socks have traction stickies on the bottom and if he falls he knows someone will find him. Thankfully, the elevator’s close, and Jarvis knows where he wants to go without him asking.

Steve heads straight for his room when he gets on his floor. He bypasses the food he knows he’s going to need in the kitchen and ignores the sofa he knows he should just curl up and sleep on. But he needs to see himself, he needs to get used to the body that’s going to be his for some extended time. 

He takes a couple of minutes to breath in the silence of his floor. Leaning against his closed bedroom door he closes his eyes, inhaling air into his now-shitty lungs, exhaling through quivering lips. The carpet’s soft under his socked feet, the door of his bedroom’s cold where he’s leaning against it, and the silence is almost consuming. Steve opens his eyes and stares at the rumpled sheets of his bed.

“Jarvis,” Steve says, not moving from the door.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Don’t let anyone on the floor.” He doesn’t want to deal with coddling friends right now.

“I fear there is someone already on your floor, Captain, would you like me to escort them out?”

Steve frowns and looks up to the ceiling like Jarvis is actually up there and not everywhere, “Who’s on my floor?” Who followed him without him noticing, who ignored him downstairs?

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain.”

Steve frowns deeper, he’s both upset and confused but not really up to fighting with James, “Does he want to talk to me? Do you know?”

There’s a slight hum, as if Jarvis is thinking, “He seems to have positioned himself in front of your elevator, I do not read any tells of him wanting to have conversation with you, Captain.”

Steve really doesn’t know what’s going on with James, or why he’s decided that watching over him like a hawk is something he now wants to do, and he really should go out there and talk to him. Except he’s too tired right now, he’d rather put this off until either something happens or James stops. Besides, it might only be something that he’s doing today, so Steve’s going to ignore it.

“Don’t let anyone else in, okay, Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Steve sighs again and pushes the thought of James being one wall away from him out of his mind. He carefully takes the clothes he was slipped into during his stay in the medical unit and throws them in his hamper, only leaving on his underwear. He steps into the bathroom connected to his bedroom, bare feet curling against the cold tile, and flips the light on.

He’s not in the bathroom to shower, no, even though he probably should seeing as he just went through a battle with a giant lizard. He is in here for the full body mirror, though. Slowly he walks to the mirror, his feet sticking to the floor, his heart starting to race in his chest. He knows he shouldn’t do this to himself, compare his body with serum to the one that lacks it, but he needs to. It’s something that’s not going to leave his mind until he actually does it, and didn’t Sam once say doing instead of dwelling is important?

He steps in front of the mirror. 

Steve doesn’t gasp, he doesn’t flinch, he knows what the body he’s had for most of his life looks like. It looks like protruding ribs and a tiny waist with sharp hipbones. It looks like bony legs and knobby knees with feet that are too big for his body. It looks like hands with long fingers and arms that lack any definition and muscle. It looks unhealthy because it is, and Steve’s going to have to get used to it. Steve knows it’s nothing permanent, only something temporary that modern science can treat most of, he knows. Sighing, he slowly sits himself cross legged in front of the mirror on the floor. His reflection stares back at him, all pale skin and bones. He sighs again and looks away.

It’s going to be a long month.

* * *

* * *

“You’re going to need new clothes,”

Steve narrows his eyes at Sam and sighs. It’s the third day he’s been- as people like to call- _tiny Steve_ , the first day where he isn’t in a hospital bed because he needs treatments or tests run, and it’s the third day he hasn’t left the Tower. It’s not that he doesn’t want to leave the tower, it’s that for one he spent all day yesterday in the med bay, and for two he’s afraid of how nature’s going to treat his new body. He’s afraid of the random asthma attacks from pollen in the air and back pains he used to get when leaving the house because nature’s never kind. Back then Steve wouldn’t be afraid, he’d just have left the house with his head held high, but now- after getting used to pure perfection of a body- he’s worried. Captain America and the Steve back then might not have been, but he’s the Steve Rogers of the 21st century and worry fills his blood.

Steve thinks the only good thing that came out of the past few days was the lizard staying small and becoming the Tower’s pet of sorts.

“and we need to pick up your glasses.” Sam adds on, finishing his glass of orange juice.

Steve sighs and pokes at his basically full plate of scrambled eggs, “Can’t someone do that for me?”

“Someone could,” Sam says, nodding, “but you gotta’ get out there in the world. Besides-” this time Sam grins and now Steve’s Worry Levels have risen, “I think your shadow could deal with some fresh air.”

“My shadow?” Steve asks, before realizing what- _who_ Sam’s referring to and rolls his eyes, “He’s not my shadow.”

Ever since he became this smaller, sicker, version of himself James has been tracking his every move. They haven’t talked once, nor have they been within fifteen feet of each other, but Steve’s learned some tailing techniques from Natasha so he knows when he’s being watched. It’s odd, it really is, and Steve wants to ask why exactly James has made himself his shadow- like Sam says- when a few months ago he didn’t even want to be in the same room as Steve. But Steve thinks he gets it. He’s small again, he looks just like he used to before the serum, he looks like everything James probably sees in his old memories. And that’s all it is. Steve looks like something familiar, something James is used to, and once Steve goes back to his newly-normal size all of this shadowing and tailing and being in the same room is going to be done and over with. That thought hurts Steve, it does, but he’ll take whatever he can get at this point, and if that’s a month or so of James watching his every move, then so be it.

“He is,” Sam says, grinning and nodding, “and you’re going to get new clothes and pick up your glasses today.”

Steve crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, “I have no clothes to go out in.” All he has are the multiple pairs of extra small medical pants and shirts they gave him, and those are not worthy or thick enough to go out in.

Sam’s grin widens, “Well you’re in luck, my friend, ‘cause Wanda and Natasha were nice enough to lend you some of their clothes.” Sam nods to the hallway leading to Steve’s bedroom, “I put them on your bed while you were in the bathroom.”

Steve glares at Sam for a few seconds, hoping to wipe the grin off his face, but he doesn’t succeed so he drops the glare, “Fine, but you’re buying coffee on our next run.”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

* * *

* * *

Steve meets Sam downstairs with a dip in his eyebrows and a frown on his face.

The outfit he was left consisted of black skinny jeans, a white knit sweater, and a black leather jacket. He knew they set this outfit up for him on purpose, but he doesn’t have any other clothes and he doesn’t want Sam trying to override his floor’s code to drag him out of his room so he and his Shadow can get some fresh, city air.

“Lookin’ good, lookin’ good,” Sam says, he has his own leather jacket on but it’s missing the rocker era lapels that the one Steve’s wearing has.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, he looks around the Tower lobby when Sam doesn’t start walking, “we leaving?”

“Waiting for Natasha and Wanda, they both want to do some shopping for themselves on Tony’s dime.”

Steve nods and sticks his hands in the jacket’s pockets. He rocks back on his heels- thankfully his feet stayed the same size- and yawns. Lately he’s been much more tired than usual, but he knows it has everything to do with his heart having to work harder so he ignores it.

“You feelin’ okay, man?” Sam asks, genuinely concerned.

Steve nods again, “Just tired is all, nothing abnormal about that.” He doesn’t want Sam to be worried about him so he doesn't mention the fact that his back could start hurting at any time or how chilly weather affects his breathing.

“Okay,” Sam says, unconvinced, he nods behind Steve, “they’re here.”

Steve turns around and sure enough there are Wanda and Natasha, both of them in leather jackets, both of them with little grins on their face and Steve suppresses an eye roll.

“Well don’t you look cute,” purrs Natasha, she ruffles his hair with her hands and pats him on the cheek.

He glares at her since they’re eye level now and if she tries to hurt him she’ll have hell to pay from Sam and whomever else is trying to keep Captain America in tiptop shape during this month long of him being tiny.

“Leather does suit you,” Wanda says, linking arms with Natasha and pulling her to the side.

Steve doesn’t glare at Wanda, he doesn’t want her to feel bad for making him this way, “Thank you, Wanda, for letting me borrow some clothes,” he flicks his eyes to Natasha, “I guess I’ll thank you too.”

“Feisty,” Natasha grins, following Wanda’s pull. 

They all walk out the door, Natasha and Wanda leading, he and Sam following. The walk to the mall isn’t too long nor is it too cold. It’s pretty nice, Sam and Wanda keep up a steady flow of conversation, they all walk at a slow enough pace so Steve doesn’t get out of breath, and since he’s no longer a big, bulking mass people don’t stop them every block or so for a picture. 

The first store they stop at is some high end eyeglasses place that thankfully- for Steve- has chairs for him to sit on. He tries to be subtle about catching his breath, but even he knows he’s failing, and thankfully everyone ignores it. The glasses come quick enough, no fuss or hassle since it’s probably _Anthony Edward Stark_ on the billing receipt, and the glasses themselves are black framed and simple. They make his vision go from blurred to crystal clear in no time so it’s perfectly fine to him, but everyone around him keeps giving him the same look someone would give a fluffy puppy.

“What?” Steve asks, they’re no longer in the glasses store and this has to be the umpteenth time one of them side eyes him with a look of adoration.

 

“Nothing,” Sam says with a shrug, a smile stretching across his face. 

Steve looks over to Natasha and raises an eyebrow.

“You look like a hipster,” She says, half smile on her face, “right?”

Wanda nods in agreement, “Very much so.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He knows what a hipster is. They’re a bunch of kids that like to dabble in old-timey things and think who people don’t do the same are lesser beings. He sees them in the little coffee shop he likes to frequent constantly, and though they’ve done nothing to him, they seem to be a menace to society.

“I’m not a hipster,” he grumbles, walking a few steps ahead of the group so he doesn’t have to see the looks they’re giving him.

The mall isn’t too packed since it’s a weekday but there’s still a steady flow of people around him. He’d never come to a mall like this, without a hat, sunglasses and jacket with a popped collar, but here he is- no disguise, people passing him by without taking a second glance, it’s nice. He’s not stopped every other step, there’s no hushed whispers when he goes into a store and buys something, he’s not even ogled at from afar by people who think he doesn’t see them. He’s completely ignored by people other than his group of friends, and it’s nice. He could get used to it, and if there’s one perk to his smaller body then this is it.

* * *

* * *

“I dunno’ about these pants,” Steve says, jumping a little to get the jeans up his legs. He lets out a sigh of relief when he gets them up to his waist and does up the button and fly.

“Just get out here,” Natasha says from the other side of the dressing room door, he can almost hear her crossing her arms.

Steve looks at himself in the mirror and wipes his forehead- trying on clothes is giving him a workout. He turns to the side and looks at himself, turning around to look at his behind from another smartly angled mirror. The pants are skin tight on his legs, tighter than anything he’d wear while he was bigger, they’re almost like the tights he had to wear when he was on tour with the USO girls and those were _tight_.

“I’m not sure if these are pants or tights,” Steve says, stepping out of the dressing room.

Natasha gives him a once over, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at his legs like they’re a map to a new HYDRA base, Steve shifts self consciously, not used to being stared so deeply at in this smaller body.

“Get them,” she says, nodding, “and they’re supposed to fit that way.”

Steve sighs and crosses his own arms, he nods to the pile of bags next to her, ”I’m only going to be like this for a month, I don’t need this much clothes.”

“Better to be safe than sorry, isn’t that what Sam says?”

“You think I’m going to be like this for longer than a month?” He hopes not, but since this is magic and neither Tony or Bruce are confident on their diagnosis he can’t be sure. They went through the motions as to what would happen if he were to stay like this, if Wanda couldn’t revert him back to his newly normal size- she can’t- and if Tony or Bruce couldn’t do something to help him, it’s fairly simple. Sam would be the one to take the shield, there would be a statement to the media about his current state, and he’d be further trained for espionage and intel. But he doesn’t want it to come to that, sure he’d be helpful, but he doesn’t know if he can mentally prepare himself for living a life with this body, with these illnesses.

Natasha shrugs and sits on the bench behind her, “Odds are you go back to your serumed form, but there’s still a chance for that to _not_ happen, and you need to think about that, you need to ready yourself for that.”

“So buying bags of clothes and acting like nothing’s wrong is supposed to ready me?” Steve asks gesturing to the pants on his legs, “I’m not sure if shopping therapy is designed for me, Natasha.”

“It’ll help you visualize yourself-”

“I visualize myself everyday in the mirror.” Steve deadpans.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “Just buy the damn pants, Steve, I think your shadow is getting bored with this store.”

Steve follows suit and rolls his own eyes and grumbles “Not my damn shadow.”

* * *

* * *

With all six-plus bags set on the floor of his bedroom to deal with later, Steve makes his way to the kitchen. Being out and about hasn’t been good to his head or throat, and even though he’s much more of a coffee person, he thinks a hot cup of tea is a good idea right now. What he isn’t expecting, though, is Wanda already pouring hot water into two mugs, her hair up in a messy bun, her heeled boots gone and a pair of slippers on her feet. He doesn’t know where she got the slippers or when she followed him onto his floor, but in all honesty he doesn’t mind. 

She’s not cryptic and sarcastic like Natasha, and she’s not going to try to counsel him like Sam unconsciously does. He knows she went through hell with HYDRA, and that her pain is similar to his for the most part, but she’s one of the most normal friends he has right now, and if he can help relieve some of the pain of losing her brother- on a mission he constructed, on a jinxed if you get killed, walk it off- then he’ll sit, drink tea, and talk to her everyday for the rest of his life. It’s not like he minds, anyways.

“Wanda,” he says in greeting, going over to the counter where she’s stirring in a spoonful of sugar, even without her heels on she still has a few inches on him.

Wanda slides him a mug, a clean spoon, and the sugar pot, nodding to him, “Steven,”

Steve spoons in his sugar in silence, listening as Wanda leaves the kitchen and settles herself in the living room. He takes a sip of his tea, grimacing because it’s too hot, and eyeing the Keurig a few feet away from him on the counter. With a shake of his head he leaves the kitchen and goes into the living room.

Wanda’s stretched out on the couch, throw blanket covering her legs, mug cupped between her hands, so Steve takes one of the arm chairs beside the couch, farthest from Wanda. When he’s in his serumed form he can’t fit in the armchairs comfortably. His shoulders are too broad for the back, his arms are too beefy to not have them on the arms of the chair, and he can’t situate his legs comfortably- having to leave them straight and proper. But now, back in his old form, he can contort his body which ever way he likes. He can curl up in the seat, cross his legs when he’s sitting up straight, and even sit with them crossed in the chair. It’s oddly nice. He settles on curling himself up in the seat, one hand in the mug’s handle with the mug itself resting on his knee. 

They drink their tea in silence for a while, Wanda taking delicate sips of her tea while Steve tries not to burn his tongue on the hot liquid. He’s almost a fourth way through the tea when Wanda finally speaks.

“Do you, perhaps, know as to why James has been your so called ‘shadow’?”

Steve sets his mug back down on his knee and shrugs, “I think it’s because I look so much like my old self.” 

“Oh?” Wanda says, lowering the mug from her lips, red lipstick stains the rim.

“Yeah, I used to look like this before the serum,” He waves his free hand up and down his body and sighs, dropping his hand, “He’ll go back to ignoring me once I’m back to normal.”

“We were always told you were born that way,” Wanda mutters, slightly cocking her head to one side, “Pietro was right.” her voice drifts off before she physically snaps herself back from where her mind went, straightening herself and looking Steve in the eyes, “You believe James is ignoring you?”

He didn’t know some parts of the world lied about who he was before but he should have assumed. Most people and governmental leaders see being small as a sign of weakness, associate being small with being submissive and having no backbone. He’s none of those things and never has been. Not even with a crooked back and weak lungs, but at least Wanda knows the truth now- even when the truth was never supposed to be a lie. 

Steve sighs, arguing to the people lying about who he really is and was is for later, “Yeah, there’s no other way to put it.” If there was another way, a lighter term, like _firmly avoiding_ , that didn’t make him sound like a hopeful idiot, he’d use it.

Wanda frowns and stares into her mug, “I believe the opposite of that,” Wanda says, looking up from her mug, “I believe that he _misses_ you, Steven.”

Steve wants to snort, want to argue and complain that James- of all things- does not miss him. He didn’t miss him when he picked up and left, and he doesn’t miss him now when he likes to follow him around without a word as to why. It throws Steve’s emotions left and right, catching glimpses of James every now and then, thinking that maybe- just maybe- James will actually talk to him, will want to be something with him again. But none of that happens, James stays far away, nothing like a shadow that keeps in close, and Steve keeps hoping. It’s naive hope, yes, but it’s hope none the less. Steve settles for shaking his head and stares into his own cup of tea, the transparent liquid stares back, “He doesn’t miss me.”

Wanda’s silent for a moment before she speaks, “You know my brother and I used to get into fights,”

Steve looks up.

“they weren’t fights over anything important, but things my brother thought he had to protect me from,” her eyes drift off to some place on the ceiling, she lets out a small laugh and continues, mimicking her brother’s voice, “‘Don’t go to the protest, Wanda,’ he’d say even though he was going to it, ‘Don’t go out with that kid, he’s not good for you’ like I couldn’t protect myself. I did most of the things he told me not to do, it was simple and playful for me, but he’d get mad at me later for it. Hours and hours of the silent treatment, because he couldn’t really stay mad at me, then hours and hours of talking because the silence left us without discussing the evening prior and how our days went.”

She looks back at him, her eyes glossy with tears but holding up strong, “It is the same thing that you’re going through, Steven, just on a larger scale.”

“But it’s not,” Steve starts, ready to tell Wanda all the reasons why their stories aren’t the same, why the ending won’t be the same, when she gets up from the couch. She sets her mug down on the coffee table and stands in front of his chair, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Steven, I have the ability to read minds- even when unwarranted- I can feel his longing, the want and love he has for you. Maybe,” she looks away for a moment before flicking her eyes back, “maybe it is he who thinks you are doing the ignoring.” she squeezes his shoulder and gives him a small smile before moving away.

“Wanda-”

“Just think on it, Steven, for me.” She rounds the couch and picks up her boots, putting her slippers back on her feet before heading to the elevator. She presses the down button and steps in the elevator, “Thank you for the tea and the talk,” she says as the doors close, leaving Steve in silence. 

Steve stares at the closed doors in silence, stunned. It makes sense to him now. Everything makes sense, and he was just too blind with James’ healing in mind to see it. 

The ‘space’ he gave James when they lived together must have came off as Steve not wanting to deal with James. It must have seemed as if Steve didn’t want _this_ James in his life so might as well not be in radius of him. The lack of coddling and care must have made James think that Steve didn’t care, not that Steve was just trying to give him room to grow and heal in this new, free world without HYDRA controlling his every move or thought. And the cherry on top of it all must have been when Steve didn’t go after James when James moved out, it must have set the thought process of Steve no longer cared about him in stone for James.

Steve groans and rubs his forehead with his free hand, they’re both idiots, now and then. Before the war and everything going to shit they danced around each other until one shot of stolen whiskey led to another, that led to their rickety bed, that led to an embarrassing morning after with love confessions. Now, in this present day, they’re both idiots because Steve thought James didn’t want anything to do with him, while James thought the same, and it took him being shrunk down a foot and a talk from Wanda for Steve to realize it.

(And if Steve’s being honest, he thought this sort of conversation would come from Natasha... then again, she is a Do-It-Yourself-Slash-My-Lips-Are-Sealed kind of person, so, really, he should have figured she wouldn’t let out a blip of what was happening with James to him.)

Steve sighs once he’s done groaning at he and James’- mostly his- idiocy. He’s going to do something about this, he’s going to wait to get James alone, somewhere outside of the tower and it’s listening walls, and tell James how much he misses him, how he was an idiot that thought James was the one ignoring him. 

He’s going to get it done, no matter how long it takes.

* * *

* * *

It takes Steve three tries to get James alone. The first two were on purpose and the last one- because his life can never be easy- was on accident.

For his first try Steve went to a coffee shop not too far from the tower. He ordered himself a coffee and a cookie then sat down at one a table for two by the window. He made sure to eat his cookie slowly, looking around the little shop for any sign showing that James was there with him, but after an hour of sitting alone at the table he gave up and went back to the tower.

Try number two consisted of Steve walking around the Met until he bones ached and he had to call one of Tony’s drivers to pick him up because he didn’t think he could deal with hailing a cab. 

And the third time.. well the third time wasn’t supposed to happen.

* * *

* * *

If there’s one thing Steve’s glad was invented it’s earphones. Tiny little pieces of plastic with intricate wiring that allow whatever music he wants to listen to fill his ears. They let him block out the world without locking himself in a room, and get some entertainment without having to pull out a radio and find a station actually playing music. The little things let him escape for a while, let him run through the park without actually hearing the people trotting on next to him, let him pretend his breathing isn’t off course and flawed but perfect like it used to be.

Usually, in this body, he’d work out in the Tower’s gym where medics and friends were nearby. But he needed to get away from the machines that were evidently sending his medical statistics to Tony and from the on looking SHIELD agents that wouldn’t stop gawking at the _Tiny America_. So off to the park he went, inhaler taken but left on his bed because the things are too bokey to carry in his pocket, and glasses pushed up his nose.

Steve tries to get his feet to fall lightly like they used to, only a small tap against the gravel path as the sound, but now they just stomp and pound. He can feel his right knee start to hurt with each stride, the pressure of his weight shifting sending sharp pains up to his kneecap, he can feel the painful burn of his lungs where he just wants to stop running, and he can feel his glasses sliding down his face. 

He doesn’t stop, though, despite the burning lungs and his glasses slipping down his nose, he keeps going. Passing trees and wilted flowers. White puffs filling the air as he breathes out from his mouth- and he really should have worn both a scarf and thicker jacket in this weather. The music in his ears is the right kind of loud and poppy to get him lost in his own mind, no longer paying attention to the track beneath his feet but focusing instead on the leafless tree tops and grey sky. So, really, it should be no surprise when he trips.

Steve lets out an ‘Oof’ when he hits the ground, un-mitted hands scraping against the gravel along with his already aching knees. His music is still blaring in his ears, loud pop beats filling his ears before he can register how much the fall actually _hurt_. He stays on the gravel, frozen still as people run past him, until someone lifts him up from under the armpits. 

He starts to protest, garbled “No- No, it’s okay- I can-” but by the time he gets those words out the person has already placed up gently on his feet and rounded him, placing hands on his shoulders, saying words Steve can’t hear because of the loud music in his ears, and the fact that his brain is trying to catch up with the fact that it’s _James_ talking to him.

James.

James, obviously worried at the lack of response from Steve, gently guides him to a patch of grass next to the trail- out of people’s way- and continues talking to him, waving a gloved hand in front of his face a couple times, making Steve snap out of his daze.

Steve rips the headphones out of his ears and exhales, “James.”

“Steve,” James says in response, his grey-blue eyes wide, strands of hair falling out of a messy bun, framing his face almost delicately, “are you okay? You tripped and fell, and didn’t get up, are you hurt-”

Steve, taking a leap of courage, places a hand on James’ chest, wincing when he stretches the cuts, “I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention and- like you said- tripped.”

“You gotta pay more attention,” James says, shaking his head, he takes the hand Steve placed on his chest and looks it over, clucking his tongue when he sees the angry red scrapes covering his palms.

Steve rolls his eyes, and pulls his hand away, “‘m fine, Buck-” he slaps his hand over his mouth when he says James’ old name, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-” he takes a step away from James, ignoring the voice that sounds a lot like Wanda’s in head, “I’ll just go, yeah-”

“No,” James says, taking his hand back- lightly, so lightly Steve feels a breath of air leave his lips because this is so familiar- “it’s fine, you can call me Bucky.”

Steve frowns, stepping back into James- Bucky’s?- space, “But you said-”

“I wasn’t him back then,” James interrupts, looking down at Steve’s hand, strands of hair moving in the light breeze, “and I didn’t want to hurt you by acting like him, and-” he pauses, licking his lips before look down into Steve’s eyes, “I’ve realized that we’ve both been acting stupid.”

“Oh?” Steve says, there’s hope in his heart and in his eyes but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that Wanda and Natasha consider themselves best friends, or the fact that Natasha’s James’ best friend. He doesn’t want to connect the dots, not now, not yet, not until James says something.

James nods, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore, because I’m not like I used to be.”

“Buck,” Steve says, familiarizing himself with the name again, “no matter what I’ll always want you,” he flips his hand over so it’s covering Bucky’s palm and licks his lips, they’re chapped, “how ever much of yourself you’re willing to give me I’ll take. I’ve just missed you.” It’s all true. If Bucky were to say now that he just wants to be friends with Steve, that they love they once had is no more, then Steve will take it. All he wants is to be Bucky’s friend again, and if he gets something more then that’s just a cherry atop this whole situation.

“I’ve missed you too, Stevie,” Bucky says, sounding so genuine it almost hurts, he places his other gloved hand on Steve’s cheek and takes a step in, “and you can have all of me, as much as you want.”

“What if I want everything?” Steve asks quietly, taking another leap of confidence.

“Nightmares and all?”

Steve leans into the hand on his cheek, “If you’re okay with mine.”

Bucky frowns, “You get nightmares?”

“Almost every night.”

“Then we can have them together,” Bucky says with a nod, an absolute statement.

“Together,” Steve says, nodding, he looks away for a moment before looking back, a question’s been bugging him since the beginning of his time being small, “why did you start following me? When I got smaller.”

Bucky licks his lips and rubs his thumb against Steve’s cheek, “I couldn’t keep away once I knew you were vulnerable, I _needed_ to protect you from whatever danger since I didn’t do a good job at it before you got shrunk, it was always to the end of the line, and even when we weren’t taking I still had the intentions of fulfilling that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, not leaving any silent space between Bucky’s words and his response that could be misunderstood as doubt or unwant, “no matter what I’m with you.”

“For Better or for worse?” Bucky jokes, lowering his head to press against Steve’s, his breath mingling with Steve’s.

Steve lets out a short laugh and smiles, “For richer and for poorer?”

Bucky nods, brushing their noses together, “In sickness and in health?”

Steve snorts and kisses him, ignoring the fact that they just recited wedding vows to each other then kissed right after like a damn wedding, all they needed was an officiant and they’d be vowed to each other both in the eyes of God and legally. 

The kiss is simple, just brushing lips more than anything, but it’s everything Steve could ever ask for. It’s like both his past and present are melding together, kisses from then becoming kisses of now. Kisses he never thought he’d receive from Bucky again but kisses he hoped for. It’s chapped lips and cold noses and glasses getting in the way when they move slightly. It’s his hands on Bucky’s chest with one of Bucky’s on his cheek and the other on his hip. It’s cold New York weather and the tiny sound of pop music from Steve’s earphones. It’s perfect.

Steve pulls away when the need of oxygen calls him and inhales. He looks up at Bucky after taking in a couple breaths and almost goes breathless again. Bucky’s smiling down at him like he’s the best thing since sliced bread, his lips are red from the kisses, and his cheeks are flushed. Steve, mirroring Bucky’s flush, looks away, “If ya’ keep looking at me like that you’re gonna’ give me a complex.”

Bucky snorts and pulls him in at the waist, “How about we take this back to the Tower?”

Steve’s brain’s floods with all the thoughts of what _this_ is and swallows, “Let's do that.”

* * *

* * *

_’This’_ became a whole lot of talking and a whole lot more than kissing.

* * *

* * *

**Three months later..**

“I’m not used to you being.. bigger.” Bucky says, looking up at him from the couch.

Steve shrugs leaning down to kiss Bucky, “It’s gonna take some getting used to, but it sure beats getting a weekly cold.”

Like Natasha predicted, he was his skinny self for longer than a month. Closer to four months, actually. Wanda apologised profusely with each passing day, and Steve forgave her each time because it was both: not her complete fault, and she was the one that helped him pull his head out of his ass when it came to Bucky. Besides, it felt nice being with Bucky while he was smaller. Kind of like an extension of their relationship before the war, but completely different since they’re both different people.

Bucky hums and pulls him in closer by the hips, “That it does.”

After their confessions in the park things basically went back to how it was before the war. Sure, they had to get used to some new antics that both of them had, but it was easy to fall into routine again, and once they realized that this relationship was for good, and not just a fling, Bucky moved back in.

“Too bad I wasn’t here to see you grow a foot,” Bucky mumbles against his mouth, pulling him into his lap.

Steve pulls away an inch, his nose barely brushing Bucky’s, “It wasn’t pretty, and it hurt like hell.”

“Then it’s even worse that I wasn’t here to comfort you,” Bucky says, getting a little dip between his eyebrows.

Steve rolls his eyes, “You had a mission, it’s not like ya’ just didn’t show up, and besides,” Steve settles himself in Bucky’s lap, arms loosely wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders, “you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“You’re such a sap,” Bucky groans fondly, pressing kisses up and down Steve’s neck.

Steve lets out a little moan, “But I’m your sap.”

“Sure are doll.”

**Author's Note:**

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